What's in a Name
by Kasey
Summary: During a mission, Crawford suggests a way that Siberian might improve his chances in combat.  Yaoi!
1. Chapter I

"What's in a Name"

Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction by Kasey

In Which I Attempt To Convince The Reader That Ken And Crawford Were Made For Each Other, Whether Ken And Crawford Agree Or Not.

This Fanfiction is rated MA for Mature Adult content, and Slash/Yaoi for stuff that makes people either say "Woot!" or "Bleargh..."

Brief Author's Notes: First of all I apologize if it seems like I mix up where and when Ken is "Ken" versus "Siberian." I have attempted to show the change in his dynamic between his daily life and his Weiss life, so he is "Ken" during the day and "Siberian" only on missions. Likewise, Crawford is only referred to as "Brad" in certain situations that will be made clear through the story. The same is true for the other characters. Also, this story is not primarily smut, mostly pre-smut which is really just as fun. Finally, I attempt to make up for some slight plot-holes by using descriptive chapter titles--Please take note of them!

Enjoy!

CHAPTER I: In Which Ken Tallies His Day And Crawford Makes A Suggestion

Ken was pissed off.

Very pissed off.

He'd been having a relatively nice day until Manx showed up. One of the children he had been coaching had finally made his breakthrough on ball-juggling, a feat that made Ken proud. His day at the shop was quiet and productive with no rushes or broken pots. And then Manx walked in.

That, in and of itself, deducted a few points from his good day. She was frowning, so he deducted another point for good measure.

Later, as he sprawled on the couch and listened to her outline the mission, he mentally withdrew another ten good-day points when she said, "Schwarz will certainly be there, protecting Este's interests."

Still it was not yet a total loss. This was his job, after all. He pulled on his dark clothes and special gloves, and drove out to the mission site.

The battle was a winner. He replaced a few good-day points in his mental tally when Abyssinian dispatched their target before Schwarz even entered the room. Rather than trying to rip information from the computer, Bombay ripped the computer tower from the wall and made his escape while Ken-as-Siberian and Balinese covered him.

Balinese went straight for Schuldich, the telepath. Abyssinian dodged Farfarello's throwing knives, then threw himself at the madman. Trying to decide which of his teammates needed his assistance more, Siberian saw Crawford pull his gun and aim it at Abyssinian. Punching-knives at the ready, he leaped forward.

He never expected to be able to hit Crawford, since he was certain that Schwarz's leader could see his every move before he made it. So he was't surprised when Crawford blocked his attack, and blocked each of his quick punches while still finding time to lay a few bruises on Siberian's own face and arms.

Growling, Siberian kicked him in the leg. Crawford looked surprised for a second as his knee buckled, then grinned as he recovered. The clairvoyant American delivered a swift, snapping kick to Siberian's side and punched him in the shoulder at the same time.

Siberian gasped, losing feeling in his arm. He got no chance to think, though, because Crawford had grabbed his other arm and bent his fingers back as he closed the space between them. Gritting his teeth in pain, Siberian looked up to see that Crawford had brought them nose-to-nose. He was about to head-bash the man's glasses when he spoke.

"Nicely done, Siberian," Crawford said, his accented voice dripping like poisoned honey into Siberian's ear. Siberian stiffened and struggled with one arm useless and the other immobilized. "I wasn't expecting that. Next time you should try a left uppercut, you know. I've never been good at them."

Blinking incredulously at Crawford, Siberian saw that the other man was grinning again. "...What the hell are you talking about?" he gritted out, but got no reply. Crawford had looked up, a glazed look in his eyes.

"Yes, of course," Crawford said, clearly not talking to Siberian. He released his opponent, dropping him to the floor, and turned to follow Schuldich and Farfarello, who, Siberian could see now, were running out of the building. He paused a moment, looked down at Siberian, grinned again and said, "It's just a suggestion," and ran off.

Later, at home in his apartment with his arm in a sling, Ken deducted a hundred points, called it a bad day, and went to bed.


	2. Chapter II

CHAPTER II: In Which Ken Had Confidence And Crawford Makes Another Suggestion

It occurred to Ken that he might just want to take his enemy's advice. After all, a successful uppercut with his weapon of choice was instant death to an opponent, and being as he was dominantly right-handed, it could never hurt to add a few more lefty exercises to his daily routine.

He doubled his daily workout time, and spent most of his efforts strengthening the power and effectiveness of his left-hand shots.

Not long after, having noticed the visible build-up of muscles in his left arm and feeling more confident in a variety of specific and special shots, he smirked to himself when Manx said one evening, "Schwarz will be there."

As he drove out to the mission site, he thought to himself that Crawford might regret having suggested that 'Siberian' work himself up. He couldn't see a move before his opponent made it, but he was definitely at the top of his game.

The mission was another success. While Bombay, Abyssinian and Balinese distracted the members of Schwarz, it was Siberian himself who dropped out of the ceiling to rend both of their targets with one blow. As the drug scientists fell, Siberian spun to meet Crawford's attack.

He sidestepped the attack, then closed in with a yell, his fists as fast as flails. Crawford was blocking each of his blows, but was retreating slowly into a hallway with each one. Satisfaction settled lightly on the back of Siberian's thoughts, and he threw his new and improved uppercut.

He never finished throwing the blow. Crawford grabbed Siberian's shirt near his waist and yanked downward, jumping backward at the same time, just as a rumbling roar echoed and crashed through the empty office building. Siberian had no time to think before he found himself trapped in the hallway, on the opposite side of a pile of debris from his teammates. With Crawford.

"I wondered when he'd finally get here," Crawford murmured, loud enough that Siberian could hear him over the subsiding tremors. Siberian cursed to himself, remembering Nagi, Schwarz's pet telekinetic. Then he turned on Crawford, figuring the remains of the hallway on the other side of the clairvoyant would be his only option for leaving the building alive.

Clenching his fists, Siberian leapt at Crawford, who met him halfway with a shot that laid him out on the floor. Crawford was on him in an instant, pinning him down. He struggled, trying to kick Crawford away, with no success.

Crawford was grinning again. He lowered his mouth to Siberian's ear, moving out of range each time Siberian tried to bash his head against his enemy's. "Very nice technique," he murmured as Siberian panted from the useless exertion. "I especially liked how you took out those two idiots Este sent us, dropping out of the ceiling like that. Very stylish."

Siberian gritted his teeth, trying to think of the nastiest curse-words he knew to throw at Crawford. He felt, more than saw, the grin on the other man's face.

"And you did particularly nicely with that uppercut I told you to work on."

Siberian blinked, still struggling weakly against Crawford. What game was this guy playing?

"...It was quite well done. I think you should try it again..."

Flexing his fingers, and trying to shove the other man away with his legs, Siberian continued to try to break Crawford's hold on him. He stiffened as Crawford continued talking in his ear. Was the man some sort of heavy breather? Or was that... did he just blow hot air in his ear?

"...Sometime when you don't have a roof falling in on your head," Crawford went on.

Siberian twitched warily and gulped as Crawford's voice and breath closed in on his ear. He gasped aloud when he felt the man's lips brushing his skin.

"...You might try practicing some wrestling holds and breaks," said the lips on Siberian's ear. They moved away, and Siberian looked up into the smug, hooded smile that hung on Crawford's mouth and echoed in his eyes. "I'd be happy to coach you."

Eyes wide, unsure of what exactly was going on, Siberian licked his dry lips. He still couldn't move his hands to break Crawford's hold. The small smile on Crawford's lips spread, and Siberian had very little time to think before the other man lowered his lips to his own.

Siberian yelped as Crawford licked the corner of his mouth. The other man took advantage of Siberian's open-mouthed shout to meld their mouths together.

This, Siberian was sure, was not a normal occurrence on a mission. Granted, most missions weren't normal in any sense of the word, but this was definitely not something he would have ever expected. He struggled again, pouring his energy into twisting his wrists and arms and flailing with his feet. He arched his back off the floor, trying to push the other man away without success. Crawford rode out the tirade patiently, his lips never leaving Siberian's and his hold never breaking.

Finally, Siberian had to stop. Already weak from his earlier attempts to escape, he also discovered that he had too little breath to continue fighting. Light-headed, he fell limply back to the floor, breathing hard through his nose. Dizzy and panting into Crawford's mouth, he didn't have the energy to struggle again when he felt Crawford's tongue invading his mouth.

It was brief. Crawford just reached in, ran his tongue lightly across Siberian's teeth, then retreated again. It was a few seconds later that Siberian realized that he could have used the opportunity to bite the other man.

Crawford pulled his face away. His lips were reddened, but other than the satisfied smirk on his face, he showed no other signs of having just kissed Siberian to within an inch of his life.

Siberian panted, licking his lips and trying to think of something to say. He glared up at Crawford, angry and confused and slightly afraid. Crawford lowered his head again and licked Siberian's bottom lip. "That wasn't so bad, now," he whispered, laying a butterfly kiss on Siberian's open mouth. "...Just think how much better you would have done if you knew how to break wrestling holds."

Siberian tried to wrench one arm out of Crawford's grip, but was only rewarded with a few twitching fingers. He was completely spent from struggling. Crawford kissed him again. And again.

He was not sure exactly how long he lay there, his back on the cold floor, Crawford's unyielding hands holding his arms immobile, being kissed by the man who headed Weiss's antithesis. It was a while, though, and he found himself surprised when Crawford lifted his head and, instead of leering down on him again, he spoke to the air with unfocused eyes.

"I'll be there in a minute," Crawford said, then blinked, his eyes focusing. He smiled down on Siberian. "Time for me to go," he murmured, pressing another kiss to Siberian's lips. "Think about what I said about wrestling. It'll do you good." Then he was up, standing, then running off into the blackness of the hallway.

Siberian winced as he tried to sit up, discovering that his arms had nearly fallen asleep. How long had they been here? He lurched to his feet and made his way down the hall where, presumably, he would find an exit. Once he got out, then he would worry about finding his teammates.

After the swelling of his lips had died.


	3. Chapter III

CHAPTER III: In Which Omi Reflects And Ken Improves Himself

"This is a great idea of yours, Ken," Omi said, beaming at his teammate.

Ken shrugged, offering a half smile as he watched Yohji hook his knee around Aya's and unbalance the redheaded swordsman. On Ken's seemingly innocent suggestion, the four members of Weiss had begun practicing wrestling every other day. The first few sessions had been unimpressive and annoying, but they had improved over a few weeks of intense practice.

"I don't know why we didn't think about something like this before," Omi went on as Aya planted a knee in Yohji's back and pulled Yohji's arm into a hammer-lock. "Maybe it's just that we've never had anyone fight back as much as Schwarz."

Yohji's hand slapped the concrete floor of the basement urgently, and he sighed as Aya released his hold. "If it's all the same," the blond groaned as he stood up, "I hope they've never had anyone fight back against them as much as we do."

"I don't think they have," Omi said as Ken took the floor with Aya. "We know that when we lose, we have to practice and get better or we won't win or we'll die the next time. I don't think they go home at night and practice, if you know what I mean."

Ken listened only vaguely as he attacked Aya. Vengeance had forced him to improve himself faster than his teammates, and he pinned Aya quickly. But Aya fought dirty, and Ken suddenly found himself mimicking the position Yohji had been in just a few minutes earlier.

"How's that, Omi?" Yohji asked.

"Well, I just don't think they're getting any better at... at what they do."

Aya only had one of Ken's arms pinned. Ken used his free arm to push himself off the cement floor, then jabbed his elbow back and into Aya's stomach.

"Not getting..." Ken grunted out the words as he wrestled Aya over his shoulder and threw him to the floor, "...better?" He grabbed Aya's wrists and centered his body weight on Aya's legs. "What do you mean?"

"Uhm," Omi said, "It's just that I haven't seen any improvement in their technique, you know? They still haven't managed to kill any of us, and we're doing more damage to them each time we meet them."

Aya wrenched a hand loose and swung at Ken. Ken blocked him, grabbed his arm and twisted. Aya gritted his teeth, his shoulder working, trying to free his arm.

"Like last time, Aya actually knocked Schuldich out. We can really turn that kind of thing to our advantage, especially if we can neutralize Schuldich and Nagi Naoe both."

"That telekinetic kid is really a problem," Yohji agreed.

Aya writhed under Ken, struggling against his hold. Ken locked his muscles and held on, not tightening or loosening his grip. Finally Aya sighed and relaxed and slapped the floor weakly with his hand, indicating that he had lost to Ken.


	4. Chapter IV

CHAPTER IV: In Which Ken Scares Himself, And Crawford Shows His True Colors

Siberian smiled and hummed a silent tune to himself from where he perched, watching as Schwarz rushed into the room beneath him. Crawford, as usual, stayed back near the door, just slightly in front of Siberian's hiding spot.

"Dammit," Schuldich growled, kicking the dying body of Weiss's target. He winced, sticking a finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. "I should have known."

"You did know," Crawford snorted. "I told you they would be here."

"I've been hearing this song in my head for hours!"

Crawford turned his head and glanced behind him. Siberian faltered and licked his lips, wondering just how much or how early the man could see the future. A small smile appeared on Crawford's lips. "They're getting smarter."

Schuldich glared at Crawford. "And why aren't we getting any smarter?" He kicked the body again, rolling it toward a broken window. "We get paid to deliver each of these idiots right into Weiss's damned waiting vigilante hands, and now they've got me singing nursery rhymes in my sleep. I thought you had some kind of plan for them, Crawford."

"You're complaining that we're getting paid?"

Schuldich snorted and spat on the ground. "I'm complaining that we have to deal with these idiots every other week, just to serve them up to Weiss on a platter."

"You have a better idea?"

Suddenly Schuldich turned and faced an overturned desk. "Right there!"

Siberian watched as Bombay leapt clear from behind the desk just as Farfarello hurled a knife as long as his forearm though it. Bombay threw himself through a window. As Farfarello made to follow him, Balinese's garrote wire wrapped around his wrist. Distracted, Farfarello turned on Balinese.

"Nagi, go recover whatever Bombay took," Crawford drawled. "Schuldich–"

"Die!" Abyssinian yelled, charging the telepath.

"–You can try to kill Abyssinian," Crawford finished.

Siberian's vision blurred for a moment as Schuldich suddenly appeared to go in five directions at once. Choosing an apparition that ran past Crawford, Abyssinian followed in hot pursuit as Crawford obligingly stepped to the side to let him by. Nagi Naoe jumped through the window that Bombay had escaped through, followed immediately by Balinese, who was followed by Farfarello.

Siberian wondered to himself if Crawford had been planning things this way.

There was silence for a minute. Crawford put his hands in his pocket.

"You can come out now, Siberian," Crawford said, as if Siberian were standing right next to him. "I know you're here watching me."

Siberian kept his breathing even and didn't move. Crawford sighed. "I was wondering if you'd taken my advice and practiced some wrestling holds." Siberian could hear a smirk in his voice when he went on to say, "Although I think it's breaks you need to work on more than holds."

Biting his lip to keep from saying anything, Siberian waited.

"If you come out, I'll help you practice."

Siberian blushed to himself. Practicing holds and breaks didn't really seem to be what Crawford wanted him for.

"Maybe you'll get another chance for that nice uppercut you worked so hard on," Crawford went on. "Nagi's out of the building, so you won't have to worry about the roof falling in on your–"

Siberian cut him off as he vaulted down from his perch. Planting his knee squarely in Crawford's back, he locked the man's arms behind his back. Crawford didn't struggle as Siberian bore him to the floor. Instead he said, "Well done," turning his head to best see Siberian's face. "You have been practicing."

With both of Crawford's arms locked in place, Siberian glared into Crawford's eyes. "What kind of game are you playing?"

Crawford smiled. "You could come a little closer and ask that again," he offered, his voice the same purring murmur that had molested Siberian's ear the last time. "But I think you already know."

"You're trying to fuck with my head!"

"Not much," Crawford replied. He gazed hotly up at Siberian. "I'd rather fuck with you."

That caused Siberian to blink, and the moment's hesitation was enough advantage for Crawford. He twisted his wrists, arms and body all at the same time, dislodging Siberian as he turned the tables.

They fought for a few minutes. Siberian's new knowledge of holds and breaks made him a much more slippery target for Crawford to capture. Eventually, however, Crawford's greater strength and experience prevailed, and Siberian found himself splayed on a wall, his hands pinned over his head and Crawford's entire lower body keeping him in place, with Crawford's tongue exploring his mouth.

Siberian struggled, knowing it was useless but fighting just because it was the only thing he could do just then. He also realized that he was at a greater disadvantage this time, since Crawford appeared to only need one hand to keep both of his arms disabled. Again, just before he thought of biting Crawford, the other man retreated to kissing and licking his lips. Siberian breathed evenly through his nose, determined not to pass out from either lack of air or hyperventilating.

When Crawford pulled his mouth from Siberian's, it was to immediately turn to nibbling on the soft skin beneath Siberian's ear. Siberian gasped, feeling his toes curl inside his shoes.

"I'm not trying... to fuck with... your head," Crawford said as he kissed his way down Siberian's jaw. He stopped for a moment to press another hot kiss to Siberian's sensitized lips. "I'm succeeding," he purred, and returned the small, nipping kisses on his jaw.

Siberian couldn't think of anything to say. He was finding that to be a regular failing of his, recently.

"But I... might like..." Crawford went on, nibbling very delicately on the lobe of Siberian's other ear, "...to fuck with... your mouth." He licked the outer rim of Siberian's ear, then softly blew hot air on it. "If it's... half as nice... as kissing you... it'll be... definitely... worth it."

Thinking as best as he could, Siberian thought that the reason he could not think of anything to say was because there did not seem to be anything to say. He found his face getting hot, and he was panting even though he had long-since stopped trying to break free.

Crawford noticed, and turned his eyes back on Siberian's. Crafty, calculating brown eyes locked with a pair of confused brown eyes. Crafty eyes crinkled around the edges. Crawford was grinning again. "You could just stop fighting," he suggested, making Siberian's eyes widen. "I'm not going to stop until I get what I want."

Siberian gulped, and tried to struggle again. "I don't know what you want," he gasped out. "And I'm not telling you anything!"

"But you already have," Crawford murmured, pressing his lips against Siberian's again to stop him squirming. Siberian stilled, inhaling and exhaling quickly through his nose as he tried to figure out what Crawford was talking about. Was Schuldich nearby? Was he pulling information out of his head?

Crawford snuck a quick lick along his captive's tongue before breaking the kiss. "No, Schuldich isn't here," he said, all for the world as if he'd just read Siberian's thoughts himself, "He's still playing with your Abyssinian."

"I haven't told you anything and I'm not going to."

"You told me this," Crawford purred, kissing that spot just below Siberian's ear. Siberian gasped again, this time with voice, turning his shock into a small moan. "See?" Siberian found himself unable and unwilling to struggle as the other man continued to take advantage of that sensitive spot.

When Crawford finally broke away, it was to see Siberian red-faced and panting, his gaze hot as he took a moment to lick dry lips and swallow before saying, "...Why?"

Crawford grinned. Just as Siberian thought, the other man only needed one hand to hold him in place. The other hand was suddenly unzipping his leather jacket and pushing it to the side. "...Wha...?" Siberian gasped. He struggled weakly, then watched, amazed, as Crawford swiftly undid his shirt buttons one-handed. He didn't see any more beyond that, though, because Crawford was kissing him again.

His shirt open and the chill night wind from the broken windows blowing into the room, Siberian was glad he dressed in layers. Not that it helped him as Crawford's hand discovered his undershirt, which was immediately pulled loose from its mooring in the waistband of his pants, and then Crawford's warm hand was on his stomach and chest, pushing his shirt up while feeling for more skin.

Siberian moaned, unable to stop himself. An answering growl from Crawford filled his mouth, making him moan again. He could not tell if he was breathing through his mouth or his nose anymore, only that everything tasted and smelled like the man who had him pinned against the wall. He could not find much reasoning in his head to care anymore, either.

Crawford's tongue was in his mouth again, mapping his lips and teeth. Siberian found himself returning the assault, forcing the other man's tongue to retreat. He shocked himself by following in after, shoving his own tongue into Crawford's mouth.

A moment later, he pulled away, horror on his face. He was kissing a member of Schwarz! Crawford had kissed him, but then he had kissed Crawford back. And, he realized, horrified, he was enjoying it. He panted hard, trying to get his thoughts together as Crawford licked and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"S-stop," Siberian whispered.

Crawford pulled away, frowning. "You should know better, Siberian," he said, disapprovingly. He bit Siberian's jaw lightly, just enough to cause some pain. "I'm not going to stop just because you want me to."

Siberian's eyes were focused in the distance. Slowly, turning his head, he brought them over to meet Crawford's. "Why?"

Crawford's brow furrowed. "Because I want to," he said, and kissed Siberian again, this time with more force. Siberian whimpered and struggled, his breathing starting to show signs of panic. Crawford broke the kiss and glared at him. "You were doing much better before," he growled, clearly annoyed at the sudden change in Siberian's reaction.

Siberian closed his mouth and gulped, setting his lips in a tight line that defied Crawford, though his eyes were still large and worried.

Frowning, Crawford leaned forward again to kiss him, but Siberian turned his head and twisted his shoulders. "No," Siberian said. "I said stop."

"Lovers listen when someone says 'stop,'" Crawford hissed, catching Siberian's chin and forcing his face towards him. "I don't." Siberian twisted his head and wrenched his chin out of Crawford's fingers.

Annoyed, Crawford let go of Siberian. Hands and feet too-long inactive were useless as he dropped to the floor by the wall. As he tried to pull himself up, Crawford strode to the window to look out.

Siberian flexed his hands, letting the blood flow through them again. He looked up to see Crawford at the window, frowning at whatever was outside. "I still don't understand," he said quietly, half to himself and half to Crawford.

Crawford glanced back at him. Siberian stood slowly, as if to show that he had no intention of attacking the other man. Once upright, he rubbed his wrists again where Crawford had held them against the wall. He looked at his hands, then up at Crawford. He glanced around the room, back at his hands, at the window, never letting his eyes rest on Crawford for more than a second. Finally he looked at the wall where Crawford had pinned him, seeing a Siberian-shaped smudge in the dirt that coated most of the wall.

He glanced at Crawford again, who was watching him, and gulped. "...Thanks," he said shortly, then turned and ran through the door, away from Crawford.


	5. Chapter V

CHAPTER V: In Which Ken Plays Crawford's Game And They Both Get Interrupted

Siberian found himself on his back on the floor again, this time, but with his hands pinned above his head in the position that left Crawford with one hand free. Crawford was kissing and biting him roughly, apparently still angry from their last encounter, but Siberian was trying to save his strength. He was tired of feeling drained after each meeting with Crawford.

Bombay was locked in some sort of virtual-reality combat with Nagi Naoe. Both of them stared at the ceiling, the VR visors cutting them off from the real world entirely. Yohji and Abyssinian had fallen through a weak spot in the floor, and were followed by Schuldich and Farfarello, so Siberian was left alone–mostly–with Crawford. Again.

The fight took a few minutes. He had managed to temporarily pin Crawford twice, and had landed a solid blow to Crawford's shoulder that would have been messy and ended the fight if he had remembered to trigger the blades hidden in his gloves. All things said and done, he was satisfied that he had made some progress.

Now, with Crawford roughly pushing his jacket and shirts out of the way and unzipping his pants, Siberian wondered if there really wasn't a better place in the world to get raped than on the floor next to three dead kidnappers with two zoned-out teenagers VR-battling from nearby chairs.

As Crawford's hand yanked painfully on his shorts, Siberian decided that his best choice was probably to start offering Crawford what he wanted, and to play it as best he could from there. It would be better than the rough, dry rape he was headed for. He started kissing Crawford back.

Startled, the other man broke the kiss the pulled away. He eyed Siberian, who smiled goofily at him. Crawford blinked, confused. Siberian tugged on his arms, indicating that he was struggling, looking meaningfully into Crawford's eyes. He was willing to play Crawford's game.

After a moment, Crawford's slow smile crept onto his face, and he leaned into a kiss that Siberian met halfway.

Distracted by Siberian's ploy, Crawford had left off trying to divest him of his clothes. Instead he spent his full attention on trying to write his name on Siberian's tonsils with his tongue.

Siberian figured there were a lot worse ways to stall for time. But as the minutes passed by, he started thinking less about the time and more about the immediate issue of the strong, insistant man above him. Tongue-wrestling with Crawford was almost as useless as floor-wrestling with him, and when Crawford broke away to start kissing down his neck, Siberian was already blushing and breathing hard.

"I... still don't know... why," he panted, "...but I kinda... I'm kinda interested in... aah!" he yelped as Crawford's hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts, "...um, ah... in-in finding out." He stopped trying to talk, letting his head fall back and allowing Crawford better access to his neck, something the other man took full advantage of.

"You certainly... changed your colors," Crawford murmured, kissing back up to his jaw. "Did you decide to just give in and let me finish fucking with your head?" He nibbled Siberian's ear, his free hand questing back up along Siberian's chest. "I thought you wanted me to stop, last time. We weren't nearly this far, then."

"Uh..." Siberian bit his lip, his eyes closed. Crawford's hand might not be in his pants anymore, but it had done its damage and his jeans had slipped off his hips. "I didn't..." Crawford kissed his ear, and he shivered. "...I didn't expect you to actually stop–auh!" Crawford was using his legs to push Siberian's pants down, and his knee had just rubbed softly but firmly along Siberian's groin. Interpreting this correctly as the cause for Siberian's outcry, Crawford repeated the gesture, making Siberian buck underneath him.

Siberian shifted his head and shoulders, forcing Crawford to move until he could press their lips together again in a hungry kiss.

Crawford let Siberian lead the kiss, feeling the man under him rubbing against his leg. He hummed into the kiss and Siberian moaned back. After a moment he pulled away. "...So?" he prompted, then kissed him again.

Siberian panted. "...So I didn't think you'd... actually stop," he replied between kisses. He gazed up into Crawford's eyes, his own eyes dark against his flushed cheeks. "...But you did."

So that's how it works? Crawford thought, kissing him again. He was in the middle of wondering what else would work, when an external thought pushed through his own.

/If you're done playing with Siberian, Nagi's coming out of that VR, and we need to get out of here. I've got Farf./

Schuldich, Crawford thought acidly. "I'm coming. I'll grab Nagi," he said aloud.

"...Crawford?"

Crawford looked down, surprised to hear his name on Siberian's lips. He leaned down to kiss those lips again, saying "See you next time," as he stood up.

Siberian propped himself up on one elbow as Crawford yanked the VR visor off of Nagi's head and threw the fainting teenager over his shoulder. Then he ran out, leaving Siberian to help his own teammate, who did not appear to have fared much better than Nagi Naoe in the VR battle.


	6. Chapter VI

CHAPTER VI: In Which Something Is Not Quite Right

Omi watched as Ken manipulated a complicated flower arrangement. His hands were doing the work, but his mind seemed to be a hundred miles away. He had ruined one orchid already, and was trying to concentrate harder with the second, but, as Omi watched, his eyes would glaze over, his mind flying elsewhere.

He was pretty sure it had something to do with their last mission, when they had run into Schwarz again.

Getting trapped in that virtual reality simulator had really been one of the stupider things he had ever done in his life. Fighting Nagi Naoe in the VR was another one. If he had not been naturally physically stronger, as well as being on par with Nagi for technological smarts, they would probably both be dead now.

He remembered pushing the VR visor up off his head, eyes coming into focus barely in time to see Crawford running away with Nagi slung across his shoulders. Then Siberian was helping him remove the helmet and stand, shakily, Siberian telling him that they needed to get him out of there. There was an odd, echoing zipping sound, he remembered. He thought it might have been Siberian's jacket.

But Siberian's jacket had been unzipped on the drive home.

Despite the memory of the VR battle–which he was trying quickly to forget–so recently in his head, he could not help but think that something had not been right about that. Later, he realized that Siberian and Crawford must have been in the same room at the same time, to see him and Nagi come out of the VR. Crawford had been running easily despite Nagi's weight, and Siberian, inspected later, did not even have any bruises.

Something just seemed out of place.

"Got it," Omi heard Ken say.

"Got what?"

Ken held up the completed flower arrangement. "See? I'll go deliver it right now."

"Don't you want me to deliver it?"

"No, I need some air anyhow. I don't have anything else on the hook, so I'll be back in a while, okay, Omi?"

Omi shrugged and smiled. "Sure thing, Ken." He watched as Ken carefully loaded the arrangement on the scooter and drove off.

"Where's he going?" Yohji asked, yawning as he entered the shop.

"Delivery."

"Ah, some guys get all the luck. Lucky today's a slow day. I'm beat," the blond said, yawning again and lighting a cigarette.

"Don't smoke in the shop, Yohji."

"Dammit."

"Put out that cigarette," Aya said, tying his apron on as he walked in. "Omi, you're off for the rest of the day?"

"Yeah, and Ken just left on a delivery."

"Well, get out of here and don't get any overtime."

"Yes, Aya."

Omi pulled off his apron and hung it on a hook by the door, then went upstairs to his apartment. He was reading a book and tapping his foot when he heard the delivery scooter return. Looking out the window, he saw Ken park the scooter near the entrance to the flower shop, then walk off in another direction without passing the entrance where Aya or Yohji could see him.

Ken's not usually this moody, Omi thought, putting down his book. His mind made up, he snuck downstairs and out the back to follow Ken.

Following Ken wasn't a hard exercise at all. For one thing, Ken had no idea he was being followed, and there were plenty of people on the street for Omi to hide among. Omi watched Ken flip through a magazine, buy food from a street vendor, rescue a child's ball that had bounced into the street, and throw his leftover crumbs to some pigeons.

All in all, Ken was acting like anyone else out for a stroll on a nice afternoon. It was at the crosswalk by the seaside that something odd happened. Later, Omi was not sure whether or not he was glad that he was close enough to hear.

Ken was reading a poster when something caught his eye. He looked into a group of people, then back at the poster, then back into the group of people, his face turning slightly pale.

Omi was curious, but stayed hidden. When Ken turned suddenly and started to walk back towards the shop, Omi turned his head so he would not be recognized. Who was Ken avoiding?

"...Ken!" a voice called. Ken spun around, surprised, almost as surprised as Omi.

Ken stared at the man who approached him. Crawford was just barely smiling, not at all menacing as he strode up to Ken, stopping just before him.

"...But," Ken began, looking up at Crawford. Omi thought, Did he tell Crawford his real name?

"What?" Crawford said. "You think with Schuldich around I don't know your real name? I couldn't call you 'Siberian' out here with all these people."

"...It's... it's not that," Ken said, his voice lowering. "I just..."

Omi blinked. Ken was blushing?

"Come on, then, 'Siberian,'" Crawford said, putting his arm around Ken's shoulders and pulling him along as he continued walking. "I know of a place we can go."

As they walked out of hearing range, Omi wondered to himself if the bug he'd sewn into Ken's jacket was still there.


	7. Chapter VII

CHAPTER VII: In Which Omi Sees Something He Didn't Want To

Omi set up his pocket radio in the abandoned apartment across from the building where Crawford had led Ken. The two had talked the whole way while Omi had followed them through the darkening streets, though Omi had not caught any of what they said. When Crawford invited Ken inside the building, Omi had broken into the apartments across the street to set up surveillance.

Using his small binoculars, Omi found the rooms that Ken and Crawford had just entered. It was a modestly outfitted apartment, with books, a small bit of clutter, a computer and a bed. The bed was where Crawford led Ken, who, Omi was shocked to see, was kissing Crawford with abandon.

Omi adjusted the settings on his radio, trying to remember what frequency Ken's bug was on. He fiddled absentmindedly, trying to understand what was happening at the other end of the binoculars.

Crawford was sitting on the bed, Ken straddling his lap, their lips locked together. Both were in the process of trying to remove the other's shirts as they kicked off their shoes.

"...zhssst... creak" said the radio.

Ken had just pushed Crawford down on the bed, using one arm to hold him down while the other dragged his T-shirt over his shoulders and off his head. Crawford pulled Ken's now-naked chest down to press against his own, and rolled the two of them over so that he was on top. Ken sat halfway up, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he undid the buttons of Crawford's shirt. Crawford pushed him down again and sat up, pulling off his shirt and tossing it neatly over a nearby chair.

Probably so it won't wrinkle, Omi thought. He gulped. This wasn't normal surveillance, but if Ken was involved in something... He settled himself in to watch. Crawford had stood up and was walking away from the bed

"...Crawford?" said the radio in Ken's voice. Ken leaned up on his elbows, and Omi noticed, disconcerted–This is surveillance! he reminded himself–that Ken's zipper was undone.

"...Just a moment," the radio replied in Crawford's voice. Ken looked around at the room, his face flushed. After a moment, he pulled off his pants and climbed under the bed sheets. When Crawford re-entered the room, he was carrying something. He paused when he saw Ken.

Omi zoomed in his binoculars to see Crawford's face. The clairvoyant leader of Schwarz was grinning like a fox. He had to zoom out again as Crawford moved to set what he was carrying on the bedside table. Then he watched as Crawford slipped out of his trousers, folded them over the chair with his shirt, and slipped in beside Ken.

If Omi had any doubts about whether or not Ken was willing, they were washed away as he watched Ken mold himself into Crawford's arms and press his lips against Crawford's. Soon the radio was intermittently producing soft pants and gasps, and Omi was glad for the sheets that blocked him from seeing whatever else the two in the bed were doing to each other.

"...It's... it's an assignment i-isn't it?" Ken said as Crawford stopped kissing his lips and moved down to his neck.

"...Assignment?" Crawford looked up at Ken's face, amused, then returned to kissing–Omi assumed it was kissing–along his neck.

"...From... from Este," Ken panted. "They told you to... to... auh, they told you to fuck with... auh, with my head. Ohh..."

Omi was not sure where Crawford's hands had gone, but there were not visible anymore.

"...You're right, actually," Crawford replied. "They did tell me–actually they told all of us–to fuck with Weiss." His head disappeared under the sheet, but his voice continued to come through the radio clearly. "I just chose who I wanted to fuck with, and how."

"...But..."

Crawford's head reappeared, and he pressed his chest against Ken's, running his hands–where did they come from? Omi wondered–through Ken's hair as he kissed him. Curiously, Ken's hands were crossed above his head, and although he looked like he wanted to move them, he never did. When they broke the kiss, Crawford returned to kissing Ken's neck and chest. "...They wanted us to get information from you."

"...You know I... won't give you..."

"...Oh, you'll give me exactly what I want to know."

Omi swallowed, worried as he watched and listened. How had Crawford convinced Ken to go through this? What information was he going to force out of Ken?

"...And what... I want... to know..." Crawford's words were broken up by stops to kiss down Ken's chest, which, Omi noticed, seemed to cause Ken to writhe on the bed more than before. He also noticed that Crawford's hands had disappeared again. "...Right now... is... what is going... to make... you scream... tonight?"

The sound Ken made in response made Omi blush, and he wanted to look away, but was afraid to abandon his teammate.

"...Crawford..."

"...Actually, I have a real name, too," Crawford said. "We don't have code names in Schwarz, we just go by surnames."

"...Real names?" Ken's voice was confused.

Crawford crawled back up to where he could kiss Ken again. "...Brad..." he said. "My given name is Brad, and you can call me that. It's less of a mouthful in Japanese than 'Crawford.'"

"...Brad..." Ken said, sounding as if he was trying the name. "...It's easier to say," he agreed.

"...Yes," Crawford said, his voice satisfied. He lowered his mouth to Ken's ear. Omi could not see what he did, but he did see and hear Ken's gasp in response. "...I'll give you a real mouthful later," Crawford murmured suggestively, just barely loud enough for the bug to pick up.

Then they were kissing again. Omi was pretty sure that Ken was an entirely willing partner, at this point. He was even more sure in a moment when Ken said, "...Cr... Brad?"

"...Yes?"

"...Would you... if I said stop, this time..." 'This time?' Omi wondered. "...If I wasn't ready..."

"...I told you before, Siberian–"

"...My name..."

"...What?"

"...My name," Ken said, "...It's..." He stopped, seeming surprised with what he was saying. Omi stared through the binoculars. What was Ken doing? Was he going to tell Crawford his real name? Despite the fact that the other man already knew, it was forbidden for them to give an enemy anything other than their codename. It was the principle of the thing.

"...I already know your real name," Crawford said, "...Remember?"

"...But..."

There was a minute of silence. Omi watched as Ken and Crawford looked into each other's faces, Ken from the pillows and Crawford from where he held himself up above Ken.

"...Siberian," Ken sighed, sounding resigned and a bit upset. "...I have to be Siberian."

Crawford lowered his head to kiss Ken. "...What's wrong with that?"

"...If you can be Brad... I want to be... I don't want to be Siberian."

"...Siberian," Crawford purred, and Omi blushed to hear the heat in his voice, "...Names don't matter as long as I get what I want."

Ken licked his lips. "...And what's that?"

Crawford grinned again. Omi could not decide if he was grinning like a fox or like a wolf. Either way, it had a pronounced effect on Ken, whose face turned red and his eyes turned dark as Crawford replied, "...I should think that's quite obvious by now."

Ken's hands, long inactive above his head on the pillows, reached up to grasp Crawford's hair and pull him into a kiss. Omi watched, curious and dumbstruck, as the two men started moving at once. Ken's hands fisted in Crawford's hair as Crawford's hands disappeared below the sheets once again. Whatever Crawford was doing, it was making Ken moan loudly, a sound that made Omi swallow and wish he hadn't thought to follow his teammate that afternoon.

Suddenly there was a loud, "...Awck!" and Ken pushed at Crawford's shoulders as a ripping sound came through the radio. Crawford laughed as he tossed something off the side of the bed. Omi zoomed in on the floor to see the remains of Ken's shorts, ripped neatly in half. Omi gulped, staring at the shorts. A moment later, they were followed by another pair of shorts, though these were intact.

Suddenly he heard a moan, then another, and another. When he focused back on the bed, Ken's head was thrown back, Crawford's face buried in his neck, and they were moving in a rhythm that matched the moans emitting from the radio.

Then they slowed and stopped. Crawford was saying something to Ken as he reached for the bedside table, but it was too quiet for the bug to pick up.

Ken's response was equally quiet.

Crawford said something else, and Ken nodded. Smiling, Crawford did something with whatever he had taken from the bedside table, and Ken stiffened, his eyes going wide and his hands tightening in Crawford's hair. He was biting his lip, and Omi was sure he was in pain.

After a minute, Ken relaxed his face and his grip on Crawford, who said something again, too quiet for Omi to hear. Ken leaned up to kiss him and responded quietly. Crawford braced his hands on either side of Ken's shoulders, and Omi blushed, realizing what they were doing.

Just like before, Ken's body stiffened as Crawford started to move, and he bit his lip in pain. Omi watched, helpless, as Ken's head rolled to the side, a tear shining from the corner of one eye. Crawford continued moving, slowly, then stopped.

"...Siberian?"

Ken did not move, just swallowed and continued to breath hard, the tear starting to roll down his cheek. To Omi's surprise, Crawford leaned forward and kissed the tear away, then kissed the corner of Ken's eye where it had formed. His lips moved again. Then Ken's lips moved in response. Re-bracing himself, Crawford moved, causing Ken to cry out audibly in pain.

Omi found himself gripping his throwing-darts, swearing that if Crawford made one more move, he would be dead before he finished. But Crawford was already making his second move, and his third, and the sounds Ken was making had no hint of pain in them.

Entirely the opposite.

Ken was howling, his head back on the pillows, his neck completely exposed and his chest moving in time with Crawford's motions. Face red, unable to look away, Omi thought that he might be hearing more of Ken's yelling than was just coming through the radio. A disturbed cat yowling in the alley below confirmed his suspicions.

"...Brad!" Ken yelled. "...Oh, God!" He bucked, his head snapping forward and almost hitting Crawford's. Propped up on his elbows, the sheets convulsing around his and Crawford's entwined bodies, he threw his head back again, his mouth working but making no noise, then fell back on the bed.

Crawford continued to move, faster, but only for a few more seconds. Then he let out a shuddering moan that seemed to shake Omi's radio, and collapsed on top of Ken.

"...I'm pretty sure that's not something I ever really needed to see," Omi whispered to himself in the darkness as Ken and Crawford kissed each other to sleep.

At least, he thought they were going to sleep. Ken was tucked into Crawford's embrace, and Crawford was pulling the sheets up over their chests to cover them. Soon enough, they both stopped moving.

Asleep or not, Omi wasn't sticking around to see what else Crawford wanted to get from Ken. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to involve Weiss.


	8. Chapter VIII

CHAPTER VIII: In Which Everyone Comes To Their Own Conclusions

Ken blinked himself awake as he felt the warm body next to his pulling away. Crawford–Brad–was getting up. He figured he knew why.

"Wait," he said, and felt Brad stiffen. He hadn't realized that Ken was awake.

"Go back to sleep," Brad said, but Ken sat up, turning to the side of the bed.

"No," he said. "It's... Well, it's your apartment. I'll go."

There was a moment of silence. Ken stood and reached for his jeans, regretfully eying his torn shorts. "You fucked with my head, right?" he said as he pulled on his pants.

"Yes."

"...And you got what you wanted, didn't you?" He slipped on his shoes.

"Yes."

Ken smiled slightly sadly at him, grabbing his shirts. "Then... I'll go." He padded quickly to the door. "Guess I'll see you... whenever next time is," he said. He opened the door and left silently.

Brad sat on the bed, staring at the door.

It was another successful mission. Particularly successful, since they had dispatched two of Este's own leading scientists. Schwarz stepped over the bodies of their fallen charges, impassive as usual, and made their standard challenge to Weiss.

Siberian fought Farfarello.

He had planned it that way. Even though it looked like the Irish madman was going to choose Bombay as his target, Siberian had stepped in, determined to fight anyone other than...

He concentrated on Farfarello, who was fast and felt no pain. Farfarello scored a hit on his leg, and Siberian grunted and punched Farfarello, opening a gash on his cheek. Farfarello's response was to open a much longer gash on Siberian's chest–not fatal, but causing him to cry out in pain.

A yelp of shock startled both Farfarello and Siberian, causing them to look over to the source. The source was Balinese, who had run into a wall in an attempt to attack Schuldich, who was staring incredulously at Br–at Crawford. Nagi Naoe and Bombay were also staring, as was Crawford's attacker, Abyssinian. Crawford himself was blinking at his upper arm, which was bleeding freely from a long, deep wound opened by Abyssinian's sword. He looked up, surprise in his eyes, and met Siberian's eyes. Siberian gulped and looked away.

"Crawford got hit?" Bombay asked in the silence.

That spurred movement. "Schwarz–out!" Crawford yelled, clamping his other hand over the wound, as if to steady the arm. As one, the four members of Schwarz retreated, and Weiss stayed, too shocked to follow.

"I think you're right, Bombay," Balinese said, letting out a low whistle. "We must be getting better. We could never do something like that before."

Bombay said nothing, though his eyes flicked toward Siberian, whose lips were thin and tight as he stared down the tunnel where Schwarz had gone. He thought, I don't think us getting better had anything to do with it.

Ken was acting strange again. Come to think of it, he had never stopped acting odd. Omi followed him again when he saw Ken leave early to 'take a walk.'

It was the same as the last time. Ken walked around, ate food, helped children and did nothing suspicious. Rather than by the seaside, though, it was near the soccer field that Crawford and Ken found each other, and Omi was sure this time that the meeting–like the one before–was truly coincidental. He adjusted his headset to hear what they said clearly.

"...Ken," Crawford started to say. His arm was in a sling, a bandage barely visible under his sleeve.

"...No," Ken said, and turned away.

"...Would it be better if I called you Siberian?" Crawford kept his voice soft, not letting Ken get too far from him.

Ken shook his head, refusing to look at Crawford. "...It doesn't matter."

"...Please... Wait, Ken."

"...Just call me Siberian. That's what I am, to you." Omi was surprised to hear a trace of bitterness in Ken's voice.

"...Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?"

Ken blushed. "...Of course I enjoyed it. And I knew you were fucking with my head." He looked angry.

"...So what's wrong?"

Finally, Ken looked up at Crawford. He was glaring. "...You might not have a heart, Crawford," he hissed acidly, "...But I do."

With that, Ken spun and left, striding away and leaving Crawford dumbfounded, staring after him. Omi watched the emotions pass over Crawford's face. First it was shock, then he looked as if he wanted to follow Ken, then he looked thoughtful, and finally he swallowed, blinked, and turned to walk in the opposite direction, his face like stone.

With both of them gone, Omi had a lot to think about.


	9. Chapter IX

CHAPTER IX: In Which Aya Is Observant, There Is A Temporary Truce, Schwarz Is Disbanded, And There Is A Happy Ending

Note: Please stay tuned for Author's Notes at the end of this chapter

Their last mission was surreal. Weiss lined up to meet their target in an abandoned freight tunnel. They walked forward into the flickering halogen light, an intimidating line of leather and steel.

Their target walked in from the other end of the tunnel, flanked by the four members of Schwarz. He laughed when he saw Weiss.

None of Weiss was particularly focused on the target. They just marked each of the members of Schwarz mentally, deciding silently who would attack whom. The members of Schwarz were just as silent as they measured Weiss. Crawford's hands rested lightly in his pockets, his sling gone.

"Siberian," Abyssinian said, only loud enough for the members of Weiss to hear, even in the echoing tunnel.

Siberian glanced at him. "Yes?"

Abyssinian did not take his eyes off of the target ahead of them. "I don't know what's going on between you and Crawford, but I want you to forget about it until this fight is over. Understood?"

Bombay snuck a glance at Abyssinian, wondering how much their leader knew, or what he had guessed. He was, not for the first time, impressed by Abyssinian's powers of observation.

Siberian just said, "Understood."

Their target finished laughing. "Go on!" he said, pointing at Weiss, "Destroy those who think they can kill me or touch Este!"

The members of Weiss readied themselves. Abyssinian placed his hand on his sword-hilt. Balinese stretched his garrote wire. Siberian activated his knuckle-daggers. Bombay notched his crossbow and took aim.

None of Schwarz moved.

"What are you doing?" their target yelled at Schwarz, "Kill them!"

Crawford drew his gun, and shot their target.

"...What the hell?" Balinese whispered, loud enough that all of Weiss could hear. Their target crumpled, dead before he hit the ground.

Crawford glanced down the line of Schwarz, then tossed his gun on the floor in front of him.

"What is this?" Abyssinian whispered. They all stared.

Schuldich was glaring at Crawford. "Do it," they heard Crawford snap. Finally Schuldich pulled out his gun and threw it on the floor next to Crawford's. Crawford pulled a knife from his shoe and tossed it to the floor. Two knives of Schuldich's followed. Five knives, a sword, half an axe, ten needles and a screwdriver were contributed by Farfarello. Nagi Naoe shook his head.

Weiss continued to stare.

Satisfied that they were all disarmed, Crawford glared at Schuldich one more time, as if for good measure, then raised his hands and began to walk toward Weiss.

"Any suggestions, Abyssinian?" Balinese asked.

"I don't think we should attack," Bombay said. "I think he's really unarmed." He did not mention that he noticed that Crawford, rather than walking straight down the tunnel, was walking directly to Siberian, and that both men's eyes were locked on each other.

"Keep an eye on the other three," Abyssinian directed.

They were silent as Crawford approached, although Abyssinian frowned when he saw that Crawford had approached Siberian, his arms still raised.

"You can check me," Crawford said.

Siberian frowned at him, and proceeded to pat Crawford down, checking for weapons. He shook his head at Abyssinian. "He's clean," he said.

"What does he want?"

Siberian looked up at Crawford, still frowning. "What do you want?"

Crawford leaned forward, and the members of Weiss watched silently as he kissed Siberian softly. When he pulled away, Siberian was glaring at him, angry and embarrassed. "That doesn't answer my question, Crawford."

Crawford lowered his hands to Siberian's shoulders, taking one step closer to him. "I did have a heart, once," Weiss heard him say, just barely loud enough to be understood. "It never meant anything to me."

Siberian opened his mouth to speak, but Crawford shook his head to silence him, and touched a finger to Siberian's cheek. "...Until it was stolen," he finished. Then he turned, leaving Siberian wide-eyed and speechless, and dropped to his knees. He crossed his hands behind his back.

Abyssinian and Balinese seemed unsure, and Siberian was too shocked to react, but Bombay knew what Crawford's position meant. Stepping forward, he pulled a thin rope from his mission pack, and tied Crawford's wrists together.

Movement across the room caused them to look up. Nagi Naoe was walking toward them. Schuldich and Farfarello remained where they were. Unlike Crawford's determined expression, Nagi frowned the entire way down the tunnel.

When he reached Weiss, he frowned at each of them and scowled at Crawford until he noticed the spare rope in Bombay's hands. Glaring at Bombay, Nagi turned his back on him, dropped to his knees and crossed his hands behind his back in imitation of Crawford. Startled, Bombay accepted the silent agreement and tied Nagi's hands, knowing that the other boy could destroy the ropes with a thought if he chose to.

Then Crawford stood, slightly off balance, and Nagi followed. Crawford nodded silently to Schuldich, who waved, then walked into the darkness at the other end of the tunnel. After a moment, Farfarello turned and followed Schuldich.

"...Somehow, I don't think we've got much choice in letting them go," Balinese mused.

"We have these two," Abyssinian said, frowning at Crawford and Nagi. "That's more than we would have expected for one night."

"But Abyssinian... they're only worth bounty if they're dead!" Bombay gasped.

"So?"

"Meh, he's right," Balinese sighed, re-winding his garrote wire. "We can't go killing them after that," he said, pointing to Crawford. Bombay, Abyssinian and Nagi turned to look at Crawford, who was gazing down at Siberian. Their teammate was returning the gaze with equal passion.

"...You really mean it?" Siberian asked.

"Of course I do," Crawford replied. "No more mind games."

"Then..."

"I just want to call you Ken."

Siberian smiled and hugged him, mindless of his on-looking teammates. "Ken. Brad, my name is Ken." He tilted his head up, and kissed Crawford.

Bombay sighed. He stepped behind Nagi and undid the ropes he had used to cuff his Schwarz counterpart. When Nagi turned, frowning, to ask him why, Bombay offered his hand.

"Omi," he said.

Danken Sie fuer lesen!

Author's Notes:

(Those of you who hate reading A/Ns, please skip down to the paragraph beginning, "And now..."

Well, thanks lots for making it this far I'm glad to see that WK is still hitting it big with the fandom world, even more glad that people are actually reading my stuff.

First and foremost, I'd like to make a note of explanation for the story, stuff that I seem to have misplaced somewhere in the plot and didn't get around to fixing before I posted. I'm happy with pretty much everything except the beginning of Chapter IV. What I forgot to expand on was my idea that Weiss, doing their "getting smarter" thing, were running nursery rhymes and songs through their heads as a method of distracting Schuldich. Thus, "I've been hearing this song in my head for hours!"

Some of you were liking the fun and interesting chapter titles... If you haven't made the connection yet, then I must direct you to the incredible books published by Patricia C. Wrede, specifically the Enchanted Forest Chronicles, the first book of which is "Dealing With Dragons," a story about a princess who hates her job and runs away, described in the first chapter title, "In Which Cimorene Refuses to Be Proper and Has a Conversation with a Frog." I highly recommend these books for anyone who likes fantasy/fiction, magic, humor, misplaced fairy tales, and/or has had close encounters of the SCA.

I'd also like to apologize for my abrupt story endings -- Poof. It's over. I'm a big user of deus ex machina (give or take the deus or the machina).

Second of all, I would like to thank everyone who responded to the first few chapters. I'm one of those authors that feels the need to wring the responses out of my audience... As proved by the steep ratio of hits compared to actual reviews... and I do very much like to know what people are actually thinking. So...

Glinwulf: Thanks! Fun is what I aim for.

Mayhem21: Can't ask for a better review than "brilliant." You have no idea what you started when you said you wished there was a bit more dialogue.

M41-ch4n: Thank you for having me read Avium Brad/Ken has always been a favorite of mine, though I don't know why... maybe it's because they're the least mentally fucked-up characters of the two groups... not sure. Anyhow, I'm glad you like manipulative!Brad, and especially glad to see people picking up on my watered-down humor.

Roxie Faye: You're not the only fan of uke!Crawford, not by a long shot. It is, however, uber rare in Brad/Ken fics for Brad to play the uke -- rare enough that I don't recall that I've ever seen it, in fact. Thanks to you, I'm now running that one around in my head, and I'm sure it will manifest itself in some ficspawn somewhere down the line. You're absolutely right about the lack of plot in missions... you, also, have no idea what you started.

sabacat: Thanks so much!!! Though I guess I'm a tiny bit disappointed... you say that this is the best CxK fic ever, but I think that "Lavender" came out much better You should try that one.

Majka: Thanks

AloofAnna: Hope you liked the rest. Glad you liked it up to ch 7

MikaSamu: Just so you know, your review gave me warm fuzzies. I'm not sure why... but thanks!

Everyone who added me to alerts: even though you didn't necessarily review, the alerts let me know that people were interested in seeing the rest. Thank you all!!

And now, (hello, A/N skippers) if you're still here, still reading, still interested... it's because you noticed that there's another chapter!!

I actually finished writing this quite a while ago, and it's been serving as harddrive filler while I tried to reconcile my smut vs. pre-smut vs. rules... and I've been dragging it out over a few weeks to torture you all. But as I've been posting and reading your reviews, specifically the ones complaining about lack of dialogue and plot, I realized...

...there's more to this story.

It's just beginning, actually. I'm now about halfway through the beginning of chapter two of "What's in a Name" Version 2.0, and I'm tacking the first section of the first chapter on at the end, here, as a teaser. The original title of this story was "Suggestions," and was changed to "What's in a Name" when "Suggestions" no longer made sense with the story _as it was_. But now I'm returning the story to its original title, as well as giving it the more thorough plot that it deserves.

Just to give you a hint: The first chapter of "What's in a Name" consists of 570 words, containing 2760 characters. However, just the tiny teaser I'm providing for "Suggestions" consists of 792 words, or 3717 characters, and _only covers the first five paragraphs_ of "What's in a Name."

So, please continue on to "Suggestions Teaser," and let me know what you think!

Yours in service,

Kasey


	10. Teaser for Suggestions

"Suggestions"

Chapter 1 Teaser

"I'd say..."

Tanned fingers pulled at the ace bandage that strapped his arm, immobile, against his chest. _And the right arm, too_. This was going to be a rough one to cover up at the shop tomorrow. No, on second thought, it wouldn't be so bad if he could just take care of checking soil moisture, repotting, and maybe a few deliveries.

Nothing that required any particular dexterity, anyhow.

"...About a hundred points."

He flopped down on the bed, wincing at the dull pain as he jarred his shoulder.

"...And a red card."

"You look chipper this afternoon," Yohji observed as Ken cheerfully waved a customer away.

Ken beamed at Yohji. "It's been a good day." He resumed work on a display at the workbench, carefully choosing a tiger-lily from a pile of cuts. "Sunny, happy. No crazy customers. Practice this morning was great. One of the older boys is ball-juggling now–found his rhythm, finally–"

"Eh, 'nough said," Yohji cut in. "Juggling balls with rhythm just sounds a little funny to me."

"Yohji! That's not what I meant!" Ken sputtered, face turning red beneath his tan.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." With an absentminded wave of his hand in Ken's direction, Yohji dismissed the flustering. As he pressed a finger against the soil of a pot near the edge of the awning, he glanced down the street. "Just as well you had a good day," he said with a grin.

Ken was placing his finished display inside a refrigerated case. "Oh? Why's that?" As he closed the case, he looked up in time to see Yohji pulling the awning shut and flipping the door sign to read "Closed."

"Because there's a pretty woman coming down the street with hair like fire and legs like steel and I'm willing to bet she wants to send us out on the town, tonight."

Ken sighed regretfully. "Miss Manx. So much for such a perfect day." He opened the basement door and started down. "Still, a mission's a mission."

In the basement, Ken wasn't surprised to find Omi in his corner, typing madly away at the computer. Headphones on, screen blaring blue-white against the black of the unlit cellar, and yet Omi turned and greeted him a cheerful "Good afternoon," as he emerged from the stairwell.

"Not so good." Ken shook his head, not sure whether or not Omi could hear him with the large, mickey-mouse style headphones enveloping his ears.

"No?" Omi pulled the headphones off, his expression quizzical as he asked, "Has something gone wrong upstairs or–oh."

Manx elbowed Yohji in the stomach as they stepped out of the stairwell at the same time. Yohji grunted and grinned. Manx eyed him dispassionately. "One of these days, you'll push me too far, get a little too close, and I'll get mean," she warned.

Yohji flopped onto the couch. "Dear Manx," he smiled, shutting his eyes, "Seeing you in a temper will probably be as worthwhile as whatever I do to get you there in the first place."

"Isn't it time for us to start this?"

All heads turned as Aya entered the basement, inexplicably prepared for battle, his sheathed sword in one hand. He turned to Manx.

"Do we have a mission tonight or not?"

Manx nodded, pulling a portfolio from somewhere inside her blazer. From the portfolio, she produced some papers, a photograph, and a map.

"It's a bit quick, I'm afraid, but we only just found out about this deal. It's got to do with that toxic waste we found last month, and it's clear that Este is involved."

"Just to be clear, early on in this lecture," Yohji cut in, raising a hand, "are there any pretty girls over eighteen on this trip?"

Manx glared at the unscrupulous blond and, to the surprise of everyone–most especially Yohji–kicked him in the shin.

"I _hope_ that answers your question," she replied.

Eyes wide, Yohji nodded. "Perfectly," he squeaked.

Huffing, Manx thrust the stack of papers at Omi. "The meeting is at 11:15 tonight. It's marked on the map. I expect mission reports from _all_ of you."

With that, she turned and stalked to the stairwell. Then she stopped, one toe on the first step.

"You should know..."

Ken arched his neck to see Manx's red curls, darkened in the shadows of stair. A soft creak of leather – Aya's trenchcoat – indicated that his head turned as well.

"This deal seems very important," Manx said softly. "Not so much to whoever is involved with the toxins, perhaps. But it seems quite important to Este."

Omi's voice piped up from where he sat at the computer. "Then... that means..."

"Hm." Manx nodded, indicated by a slight bobbing of her hair. "Schwarz will certainly be there, protecting Este's interests."

End of Suggestions Teaser

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